Family Reunion
by CaddySam
Summary: Desmond is stuck hosting this year's Thanksgiving dinner with foster brother, Clay. Uncles La'Ahad, Auditore, and Kenway are all bringing their families, making for one wonderfully dysfunctional family gathering. Some, Desmond has never met. Some haven't even met each other. Tensions are high and attitudes are hot! Can Desmond survive his own family? (ages changed, current day)
1. Chapter 1

**I**

I braced myself for the chaos that was soon to come. Not all of history, from the conquering of the Crusades to the rise of the Roman empire; from the Spanish revolution to the Civil War of 1776 could compare to what would surely ensue within the coming hours.

My relatives were coming to my place for Thanksgiving.

Myself and my foster brother, Clay Kaczmarek, was usually my limit. Our tiny little three bedroom bungalow was hardly space for a family of two, let alone a family of fourteen more. I had no idea how in the hell we were going to accommodate my entire family. I had asked Clay how we would do it, and how ridiculous it was going to be to organize and who we should just cancel the whole thing, but all I had gotten in response was, "God, Desmond, do you really hate your family _that_ much? How bad can they really be?"

I knew the answer to that. They could get really bad.

My eldest uncle, Altaïr, his wife, Maria, and their two sons, Darim and Sef were nice enough to have over for the occasional barbecue. Maria, coincidentally, owned the bar I currently worked in and so I knew her well. I also knew her sons pretty well, and though they were several years younger than I, I still had to watch Darim and Sef rocket past me in the educational hierarchy. Sef was probably in his first or second year of his doctorate, and Darim was probably already a doctor of some kind, anyway. With such strict and loving parents, there was no way those two would ever be un-employed. I hadn't seen their father in a long time. My eldest uncle had a habit of disappearing for days on end to who knows where. Thank god he was self-employed, otherwise Maria would have his balls for missing work. I laughed to myself at how delightfully plain they seemed in comparison to my other uncles.

I thought of Uncle Ezio, my closest related actual uncle on my father's side, and of all the misadventures he never ceased to tell me about. By far, I found him the most interesting of my more acquainted uncles and preferred him to the others, regardless of his womanizing ways. Although, I had heard that he had settled down since the last time I had seen him - four years ago - with a here-tell beautiful woman named Sofia. I had heard from Altaïr that Ezio and Sofia had already had two children together. I found myself excited to actually meet them. How a librarian and a tailor met, I'll never know. They seemed to have good chemistry, and that was all that mattered. That came from my father's side.

The English and American side of my family, the side of my mother's, were a lot less in the Miles' family loop. I didn't know much about my Uncle Edward - whom I had met once when I was very young - or his wife Tessa. I knew from my mother that Edward had been in a war or two, though he had never said which ones, and thus, I didn't believe it. He was a hot-blooded Welshman with a sweet tooth and blue streak whilst Tessa was a mild-mannered English bureaucrat. Such a vibrant mixture of personalities was only seen in movie scripts and comic books. Garage-shop owner meets politician. What a brilliant mess. I could only imagine what their kids were like… Wait. I could.

I had only met Jenny, Tessa's daughter from another marriage, once, but I knew she was the kind of person who probably wouldn't turn up at a party unless she was dragged there. In the back of my mind, I set a chair aside in case she did come. Haytham, on the other hand, was by far the most social Kenway. He never made much personal contact with anyone, but there was always a pleasant automated voice message from the high offices of Wall Street wishing the Miles family happy holidays. I thought about it, but I had never actually _met_ Haytham face to face. I had Skyped with him once, and so I knew he was relatively close in age to me, him being thirty-nine years old, and me being thirty-two. I knew he had dark hair like his mother and cold-but-amiable eyes like his father. Cold but amiable. That was a good way to describe the Kenway branch of my family tree. Especially when talking about Haytham's young-had son, Connor. I didn't know much about the barely-twenty-year-old half-native boy, just that he was a stingy nineteen years younger than his father. Apparently, he would be bringing his girlfriend of four years to dinner, not that I had intended to give seats to plus ones, but maybe she could make the looming Pollockian mess of Thanksgiving just a little more bearable.

Truth be told, I was nervous around the Kenways. They just seemed so… Distant. I knew that wasn't the case though, considering they all lived in the closest proximity to me. If they were the first to arrive for dinner, I knew I would have _a lot_ of awkward stalling time before Ezio and Altaïr got their clans here.

It wasn't as if I didn't love them all. Of course I did. It's just that I didn't know them very well.

_Who else is coming?_ I couldn't think right now, I was stressing out so much. Why had it been _my _responsibility to host the family dinner this year? It was because my parents had flew across the Atlantic to bump hips with the dutch and do God only knows what.

I knew that tonight would be chaos. And I could only hope a bartender, college fuck-up like me could handle it.

Clay was relaxed as hell, reclined on the brown tweed couch between the dining room and living room. I was bust flitting around cleaning and neatening, worrying about everything my mother had told me about her family and all the things my father had warned me about his.

Ezio _hated _apples, including apple pie.

Haytham _hated _clutter and refused to go anywhere that wasn't organized.

Edward _would_ find the liquor cabinet, no matter _how_ well you locked it.

Darim and Sef _needed _to have access to high-speed, take-shit-from-no-provider WiFi.

I hoped that the women at the table would keep their men in line. I know I certainly couldn't if I tried. Maria would keep her boys in line, and I'm sure Sofia would keep Ezio and her children at an acceptable level of humility. Anyone who could tame Ezio's fire was certainly number one in my books. Likewise with Tessa and Edward. Tessa had always been the one to call personally, unlike Haytham, at the holidays, and unlike Haytham, spoke with me on every calendar holiday. I hadn't met her, though, like Haytham, but I knew she was good friends with my mother. She had talked to me and told me that as long as her family behaved themselves, she was the sweetest thing anyone could ever know. That made me worry about the rumoured friction between Haytham and Connor. I wondered if grandma Kenway would be able to keep the peace between her step-son and grandson. Thinking of Connor made me think of Aveline. I hoped she would just be blissfully ordinary.

The stress must've been glaring through, for Clay shielded his eyes dramatically and said, "Desmond! You're burning hotter than the sun! You have _got_ to calm down!"

"Clay, I can't, alright? I need to get everything straightened out, cooked, checked, cleaned, _locked_, and checked again before my family gets here. I'm guessing that Haytham will be here first because he's closest so…"

"How is Wall Street _closest_?" Clay laughed.

"It is compared to the others," I sighed, brushing him off. "I have no idea who's going to get here first. I asked everyone to call me when they were leaving."

"Just so you could psyche yourself up?"

"Exactly."

Clay sighed. "Well, I hope they just keep it reigned in. From what I've heard from you, they seem like hellspawn."

I took a moment to reflect. "Aw, I guess they're not all that bad. I mean, I'll be meeting my mom's side pretty much for the first time. I've met my dad's side, at least, and they're pretty good." I plunked myself down next to Clay after arranging the coasters just so. "Are you sure you don't want to bail now? I won't stop you. You have three seconds to decide."

"Desmond," my foster brother scolded, "I know you want me to be here, so I'll be here. It's not like I have anywhere else to go. Besides, it'll be fun to meet some new people. Might help take my mind for things…"

My brother the shut-in. He hadn't left his house since his biological parents had died in a car crash four weeks ago. Having only met them just two years prior, he hadn't known them long enough to make a connection. Although, the trauma of identifying their bodies as his parents was crippling to him. Since then, he had been living with me. I didn't mind. It gave me a chance to get to know him better. I knew that he was capable of getting through this. He definitely needed a new situation to take his mind off things.

My family reunion was _definitely _ a new situation.

"You'll have a great time, Clay," I reassured him. "You won't have _time _to think about anything else."

Clay shot me a confused look, and I just smiled and went off to the kitchen to check the thirty-one pound turkey once again.

It took about two hours for the turkey to turn gold, just like my mom had said. I re-read the directions for stuffing and began my chores. I hadn't ever really prepared dinner before, but luckily, Clay was a master in the kitchen. He ended up doing most of the cooking, preparing and baking anyways. I was the heavy lifter and bar-keep, obviously. The massive part-dinosaur bird was not going to come without a fight. It had taken three of us to get it in from the car and four to get it into the oven. I suggested we just slice it up and barbecue it, but Clay vied for traditional. So traditional we went, and made all the accoutrements to go with it. And I had to admit, I was damned proud of myself so far. I only hoped the rest of the night would just fall into place.

At around three-thirty, my first phone call came. I had said for everyone to be here by six, and that dinner was at seven, but I had a feeling things weren't just going to fall into place.

I answered the phone and was greeted with a bout yelling, screaming and complaining. It sounded as if I had interrupted a flock of squabbling gulls. I tried to greet the noise but it just got louder. Finally, I heard a muffled, but rather loud, "_Silenzio_, _bambini_! Your father is trying to talk!"

_Ezio, thank god_.

I found myself actually dreading the calls from the Kenways. I wasn't good at formal calls. At all. At least with Ezio, I knew him well enough to know what and what not to say.

I tried again. "Ezio?"

"_Desmond! Come stai, nipote?_"

"English, Uncle Ezio, remember," I reminded him with a good natured roll of my eyes. It was really good to hear his voice after so long.

"Yes! Yes! I remember! English family and whatnot. I'll just stay my native tongue for people I haven't met. _Ha!"_

Another voice chimed in.

"Ezio, just be friendly. If your nephew wants you to speak English to his other guests, then you do it out of courtesy."

"_Ci, ci, mi amore…_"

The voice addressed me now. "Desmond? Hello, this is Sofia!"

"Hi, Sofia," I replied. "It's nice to finally talk to you."

"Oh, and I can't wait to meet you. Your father and uncle have told me so much about you!" Sofia fawned. I could already tell I was going to like her, so friendly and in control of Ezio…

"Now, _bambino_, we're probably going to be a little late. Marcello forgot his _coperta_ at home and we have to go back for it. Sorry about that. I hope Altaïr has called?"

"Not yet, uncle. I hope he does soon though. I'm honestly dreading—"

"_Papa! Marcello keeps poking me! Make him stop!_"

"Marcello! _Smettila!_" Ezio barked at the shrill little voice in the background. "Sorry, Desmond. Kids, you know?"

"Ha ha, no I don't!" I joked, truthfully glad to be childless for the time being.

"We'll see you soon, Desmond," Sofia called out. "I'll let you know when we're in the area."

"Okay, Sofia, thanks. See you all later."

Ezio started to say something, but was cut off by a loud giggle and a crash. I heard the beginning of the word _fanculo_, then the call ended abruptly. I smiled to myself and hung up, hearing the satisfying click of my screen shutting off and a few precious moments of silence before my _Stayin' Alive_ ringtone blared in my ear again.

"Please don't be Edward… Please don't be Edward…" _Click_. "Hello?"

"—Is it on? I don't think that it's on. Darim, what is this silly thing?"

"Dad! It's bluetooth. Just say hello," I heard Darim coax his father.

I inquired, though a already knew who it was. "Altaïr?"

"AH! Desmond! Can you hear me alright? AM I LOUD ENOUGH?"

"_Yes_! I can hear you just fine, uncle," I reassured. I laughed to myself at Altaïr's inability to keep up with the technology of today, while having sired such tech-savvy sons.

As if reading my mind, I heard Sef in the background pipe up with, "Dad, you don't have to yell so loud."

Before the arguing started, I interjected loud enough for the whole car to hear. "Are you guys on your way?"

"Yes, we just picked up Darim from the hospital. They said it was permanent."

"Oh my god, is he okay?" I asked, momentarily alarmed.

"Desmond, I'm fine," Darim spoke up. "Excuse my father. You know his sense of humour."

"Ha ha…" I mumbled, rolling my eyes, feeling like an idiot. "So what does that mean? Did you…?"

"Yes! I got the job," Darim announced proudly. I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Congratulations," I exclaimed. I suddenly heard a call waiting sound. "Just a second guys, I have another call coming in." My interjection went unnoticed, luckily, and I slipped into my incoming call. "Hello?"

"Desmond," a curt upper-class English accent not so much greeted me as vaguely regarded me.

"Hey, Haytham," I said, purposefully nonchalantly, knowing the informality might irritate him. I could practically hear the disgruntled scowl on his stern face. "Are you—"

"When were you expecting guests to arrive?" Haytham interrupted coldly.

"Um… Around sixish?" I answered, trying to be polite.

"What _time_?" he suddenly demanded. "Give me a _time_."

_Jesus, and I thought Clay was control-freaky…_ "Six o'clock!" I gasped.

"Very well."


	2. Chapter 2

**II**

Suddenly, I heard the doorbell ring. My stomach dropped as I glanced at my watch. Exactly six o'clock. How had the day gotten away so quickly?

I remembered that I had Altaïr on hold. I quickly apologized to Haytham and switched back. The family was still chattering amongst themselves. Apparently, Darim hadn't told his family about getting the job as a cardiologist. He had spoken to me about it briefly a couple days ago, but nothing was permanent. Either way, I just allowed them to continue talking while I scrambled for the door.

Juggling my conversation with the La'Ahad car and answering whoever was at the door, I jammed the phone against my ear with my shoulder as I shoved the final chair into place. The doorbell rang again, then once again in quick succession. I hustled over to the door, talking a deep breath. I opened the door, clutching my phone for emotional support. A man in a striking blue-black suit, maroon tie and sharp, slicked back black hair stood tall in the doorway, Blackberry in hand and sunglasses tucked back atop his hair. He only glanced up after I had stood there gawping for several seconds.

"How dare you hang up on me," Haytham scolded lightly. A cold smile crossed his lips as he sheathed his Blackberry and stuck out his hand to me. "So good to finally meet you, cousin."

I could hardly breathe. "Um, hi, Haytham. Sorry ab-about that, I-I had Altaïr on the other line," I stammered. _Jesus, he's just as scary as my mom warned. _Perhaps it was my imagination, but even his hand was cold to the touch. "Hey, uh, please come in. Clay is making dinner. I'm just neatening up."

He raised an inquisitive eyebrow at me. I may as well have just rolled over in submission with my tail between my legs. "Um, Clay. My foster brother," I quickly informed, holding a hand out to invite the statuesque man in. It felt like I was letting a wolf into my house. I only hoped he didn't bite.

In my ear, I heard Altaïr address me. "Desmond, we're getting on the freeway now. We should be there soon, but we will likely be a little late." _Oh no…_

"Okay, thanks for calling, Uncle. I'll see you soon." I hung up and once again regarded Haytham, who was looking around the bungalow like it was a slum. He looked at the framed picture of my drunken friends and I hanging off a lamp post in Times Square, mouths open in the middle of the line "_I'm singin' in the rain_". I saw Haytham smirk a little. Maybe he wasn't so cold and distant after all.

I hoped.

"Lovely place," he mused quietly, hands behind his back as he meandered through the house.

"Oh, thanks," I chirped, "I've had it for like, um… Three years now…?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

This was going to be a long wait for the Uncles Auditore and La'Ahad. "Um, the latter."

Haytham stuck out his lower lip in feigned interest. I asked if he wanted anything to drink. "Black Earl grey, if you have it, please. Thank you."

I pretended like I knew what he was talking about. I assumed he meant tea. I would ask Clay. He had done the shopping and I told him we needed a lot of tea. Apparently tea was a big thing in the Kenway family.

I told Haytham I would be back in less than five minutes. He only nodded and continued looking around the living room. I scampered to the kitchen, still clutching the phone in my hand. Clay turned around from being studiously bent over the stuffing.

"Who's here first?" Before I could reply, Clay answered for me. "Mr. Anal Retentive. Am I right?"

I nodded hastily. "He wants Earl grey. Is that tea? Do we have that?"

Clay smirked. "Yes, in the lower drawer. There's water in the kettle."

"You're honestly a life saver, Clay…" I breathed, leaning against the countertop next to the kettle. I tried hard to imagine if my foster brother had not been here. He had just been through a tragedy and now he was helping me, where the worst tragedy in my life was worrying about whether or not I had locked my front door the evenings I worked. He has done so much for me, and all I've done for him is give him a place to stay. I felt as though he deserved more.

"There's only been _one_ person over so far. You're not even halfway through the evening yet! Besides, if you get so bent out of shape now, before anything has even happened, how the hell are you going mange the rest of the night? One step at a time," Clay reasoned, his words calming me slightly. I grasped my head in stress. "Relax, Desmond. I'll do the ice breaking with the Kenways if you want."

"Really?" I asked, genuinely tickled.

"We both know you are _not_ good at first introductions sober. Have a glass of merlot and you'll loosen up," Clay said, handing me a bottle of deep red liquid and a crystalline glass. "I know what you're thinking, and no, it wasn't _that_ expensive. Mom and dad weren't exactly poor, and with me being their only son, biological or foster, naturally all the spoils fell to me. So… You can thank me later."

With that, Clay sashayed into the living room and greeted Haytham jovially, leaving me to the tea. I could feel my mouth hanging open in surprise. _I really need to stop being such a p— _

The phone went off again. _Who can it beee now_… I sang in my head, lifting the phone to examine it. The number was unrecognized. I answered anyway. "Hello?"

"Desmond!" shouted a mirthful female voice.

"Um… Who's this?"

"This is Aveline de Grandpré, Connor's girlfriend," the girl said. "I just wanted to call and warn you about—"

"Warn me?" I interjected, worried something bad had happened.

"Don't worry too much, eh…" Aveline trailed off. Now I was _really_ worried. "It's, um… It's Connor…"

"What? What about Connor?" I asked, my voice increasing in volume an octave.

"Yeah, um. He can't make it due to a… What did you call it?" It sounded like she was talking to someone in the background. Her voice got louder when she spoke again. "He can't make it due to a _business opportunity that cannot be missed_." It sounded like she was reciting something, so monotone and mechanical. "So he won't be… I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I can't do it!… I mean look at your face!" She was _laughing_.

"Aveline? What's going on?" I asked sternly, hoping my seniority gave me an edge to my voice.

"I'm sorry Desmond," Aveline giggled, "It's Connor. He's making me make excuses for him. You should see his face! He looks like Grumpy Cat!"

I heard a grumble in the background, assuming it came from Connor, I held my tongue. The kid had been so serious when I had met him a few years ago. He came into Maria's bar asking for a job when he was only fourteen. I had personally refused him, not even knowing he was my own cousin. He hadn't even smiled. Him on his own would be an obstacle. I guess I would have to crack open the liquor cabinet sooner than later.

"I believe you," I said to Aveline while fishing a tea bag out of the drawer and a mug from the shelf. "I wouldn't want to come either," I admitted, hoping that Connor wasn't within earshot. "It's going to be an interesting evening."

"Oh, he's just being antisocial," Aveline reassured. "I'll get him to loosen up a little. I've been here this long. There must be something about me…" She trailed off again, her voice growing softer. I guessed she had turned the doe-eyes that girls naturally had on Connor, reducing him to Jell-O. I found myself excited to meet her. "We'll see you soon, Desmond."

"Okay. Thanks for calling, Aveline. See you guys soon." I hung up and shoved my phone in my back pocket, hoping it wouldn't go off again for a while and that everyone's commutes took just a little longer than expected. I grabbed Haytham's tea and strode into the living room. All the years of bar tending had given me an unnaturally steady hand when balancing drinks. Speed and balance were my thing, not so much endurance…

When I got to the living room, Clay and Haytham were deep into a conversation about stocks and bonds or something. Either way, the wolf was occupied and his scrutinizing eyes weren't trained on me. When I made myself present, Haytham ceased conversation to thank me. I had to admit, despite his intimidating manner, he was actually really courteous, not at all the cold, aristocratic asshole I had made him out to be. Perhaps that combination was exactly why he was so successful on Wall Street.

"No problem," I mumbled as I handed him his drink. I sat down on the couch next to Clay. Of course Haytham had taken the thin black leather wingback chair that I and won in a poker game, the only chair in the room that had only been used once. In fact, it was the only chair in the room that kind of suited him. He took a careful sip of the tea. His face didn't read disgust, so I assumed I got it right. Just as I sighed, he peered up over the rim of the cup, as if sensing my distress.

"My father hasn't called yet, has he?"

_How did he know what I was thinking? Agh!_ "No, he hasn't," I answered.

"He won't," Haytham responded curtly. I was taken aback. I didn't know what to expect from Edward exactly. I had just assumed he would call like everyone else had. But maybe not… "You should hide your liquor now, bartender," Haytham tutted. "Edward has never exactly been one for sobriety." Haytham tucked his sunglasses in his jacket pocket and whipped out his Blackberry again. "Excuse me."

He left the living room to wander around in the hallway leading to the bedrooms. I quickly scooted over to Clay. "You ready to admit defeat?" I asked sarcastically.

"I'm thinking that if the rest of your family is worse than Haytham… They _really _aren't that bad," Clay decided.

"You haven't met Ezio yet…" I muttered, wishing my off-colour uncle would get here sooner than later. Suddenly, we heard Haytham's voice raise in anger. We could hear his conversation from the hallway.

"What do you mean _I'm_ the problem?! It wasn't _me_ who cut him out of my life! That was all you, Ziio… _NO!… _At least I'm _trying_ to get to know him. You were never there for him!… At least I took him to school!… You left as soon as you could… Don't you apologize… Don't you _dare_ call this number again!" I heard a click and an exasperated sigh. Immediately, I felt bad for not knowing my cousin better. It seemed like regardless of the wealth and fame that Wall Street had to offer, he still was just as lonely as the rest of us.

I hadn't realized that I had been leaning forward from my seat to catch the conversation. I straightened out when I heard Haytham pace back into the dining room. "Troubles at work?" I offered innocently, and stupidly, I add.

Haytham seemed distracted. I asked again and he looked up. "Oh. Eh… No, just… Complications I thought were dealt with…" His face hardened as he re-took his seat with us. "Who else is coming this evening, Desmond?"

I thought of my guest list. "Um… My uncles Altaïr La'Ahad and Ezio Auditore—"

"Auditore. Is that Italian?" Haytham asked politely enough.

"Yes. He's from Florence. So is his wife, Sofia. They met when he went back to visit family."

"How nice. Please continue," the middle Kenway coaxed.

"So… Those two and their kids. Altaïr and his wife and—"

The doorbell rang, interrupting me mid-sentence. I looked at Haytham as if to ask permission to get up. I shook my head and tried to be rid of the complex Haytham was giving me. I reached the door and listened for a moment. I heard two squealing little kids, and I knew my heart rate dropped significantly.


End file.
